Too Old for This
by SubwayWolf
Summary: Top Gear. After yet another installment of his affair with James, Jeremy decides to speak his mind. However, his impromptu blabbering doesn't do him much good. Mild slash.


**A bit of Top Gear fluff I wrote a while back, Clarkson/May. Enjoy.**

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><p>Jeremy Clarkson was getting too old for this.<p>

He let his eyes fall closed as his chest expanded and deflated in quick intervals, exhaustion taking him over. The bed sheet covering his body fell from his chest and settled below his bellybutton.

From beside Jeremy, James May let out an exhausted sigh from his parted lips and buried himself deeper into the sheets that covered his bare chest and shoulders. James managed to retain a small amount of energy and used it to conceal himself, preventing the covers from falling and exposing his chest.

Jeremy was going to comment on this – he had seen James' chest many times before, so why was he always covering it up? Jeremy was too exhausted to say anything, however, so the two just sat there in silence.

The stillness that ensued was, unfortunately, completely normal. James and Jeremy had been having an affair for over seven years now, and over time the two started running out of things to say to each other. Eventually, it diminished into not saying anything at all. They'd conclude their adventure in catching their breath, whinging, and playing the game of I'll-wait-until-he-falls-asleep-and-then-leave.

Their relationship pitted Jeremy. Being with James was almost like an addiction: he wanted to stop but just couldn't. James was a good friend and an indisputably good lover, and somehow those things didn't affect each other. When they were friends they weren't lovers and when they were lovers they were far from friends. It had been like this for years and had shown no signs of stopping.

Jeremy didn't want it to stop– he was satisfied with the action. He just yearned for a reaction.

James never said anything to Jeremy during their sexual escapades, and maybe that was a good thing. However, Clarkson felt something was missing: interaction. Follow-up. Maybe a "good job". None of that was currently existent.

Jeremy continued to catch his breath. Again, he wondered if he'd ever get it back. A soft groan came from James, and Jeremy recognized the sound as the signal that James' arse hurt. Jeremy must have been reckless today, since he's usually careful not to hurt May. He'd go through all the precautions: he didn't slam into his partner, always wore a condom, and always used his fingers to spread James beforehand.

It had been a long day at the office and Jeremy just wanted a quick release before he went home for the day. He remembered cornering James in the back of the meeting room and looking the long-haired man straight in the eyes. James' reaction was one Jeremy still didn't understand: James refused to make eye contact with Clarkson, just quietly nodded his head at Jeremy's silent suggestion and stared at the floor.

When they got to the house they did their business and that was the end of it. It was absolutely perfect that way.

And it was then that Jeremy, lying in the bed in his own sticky sweat, began to realize how much of a contradiction he was making: he didn't like how James didn't communicate with him but was inversely content with himself not communicating with James.

And suddenly Jeremy felt sick to his stomach (partially from his exhaustion but mainly from his wrongdoings) as he sat with his lips parted, panting. He was sick at himself, how after all James had done for him, Jeremy had never said "thank you" to the younger man, not even once.

Jeremy let his eyes fall closed and after a moment, gained the courage and energy to speak.

"Hey, James?" he got his mate's attention tenderly, colors whirring around his closed eyelids as he was still on the high of afterglow.

James purred the response, "Hmm?" Characteristically, his answer was soft and gentle, just as his behavior in bed. It was the conflicting opposite of Jeremy.

Clarkson opened his eyes and glanced to his left, straight at James' damp, lengthy hair. "Uhh…thanks."

James turned his head to face Jeremy, shooting him a look of confusion.

Clarkson decided impromptu elaboration was his best bet. He looked at the bottom of the bed, where James' toes stuck up from beneath the sheets. "Just…" Jeremy searched for words. "Thanks for all of this. Thanks for doing this with me without protesting."

James said nothing, just tucked a lock of sweaty hair behind his ear.

"Sorry I've never thanked you before." Jeremy looked at the ceiling aimlessly. "I don't really know a good word to describe it. Just that it's nice of you, I guess. And I love you for it." He furrowed his brow, quickly realizing what he had said.

James didn't say anything for a while. Jeremy, intertwining his fingers above the bed sheets, waited patiently for an response but he was unsure he'd get one. He was right. Clarkson suspected that James might've been asleep, but after glancing out the corner of his eye, he saw that May was, in fact, wide awake.

Jeremy wondered if James had gotten offended by the "I love you" bit, and after careful consideration (three seconds' worth) he realized that was the only bit to be angry at. Therefore Jeremy felt sick to his stomach once again, out of sheer embarrassment.

Jeremy knew he shouldn't have spoken at all, like usual, but instead he made the mistake to do so and hated himself for it. It was inevitable to get a reaction as he had received, as he had sensed it was the wrong thing to say before he'd even said it, yet he did it anyway. He did it as a way of smoothly getting off his chest what he'd been meaning to say all along, and although he might not have meant the "I love you" bit in the way it's typically used, James obviously took it that way.

James spoke up, out of nowhere. "I think we should stop," he said softly. "Stop…being together."

This broke not only the muggy silence but also Jeremy's heart. He opened his mouth to say "what?" but no noise came out so he closed it again. He turned his head to glance at James, who was still covering himself up with the sticky sheets.

James made eye contact with Jeremy's insistent eyes, but quickly May looked away again. James was probably right. He always was, although Jeremy hated admitting it.

Jeremy had known James for however long now, and Jeremy knew all of his partner's moves, expressions, actions, thought process… Jeremy recognized the anxiety in James' posture, the tension in his jaw, the furrow in his brow, the refusal to make eye contact; he knew that James was having second thoughts on his statement.

The complexity of James and his thought process was something that Jeremy loved. Jeremy loved the way James acted and spoke, the way he knew so much, the way his eyes shone, the way he had to squint to see the speedometer… in fact, Jeremy loved everything about him. It was a bombshell when he realized his statement involving the words "I love you" was completely true.

Suddenly full of courage, Jeremy put his arm around James and, with the energy he had remaining, pulled the smaller man closer so they connected at the shoulders. "I think you're wrong," said Jeremy with a grin, looking down at his slightly alarmed partner.

James was confused, and rightfully so. This was probably the greatest amount of tenderness Jeremy had ever expressed towards anyone. But James slowly accepted Jeremy's offer of affection and relaxed into the gentle embrace.

James sunk down further into the bed so that his head rest in between Jeremy's chest and arm. He buried his nose into Jeremy's ribcage and snuggled closer to the larger man, bringing a hand up to Jeremy's chest and twirling between his fingers the curly grey hairs that covered it.

James sighed happily. "You're perfect, Jeremy."

Jeremy basked in the moment, grinning contentedly. But he knew the pair was short on time. "We should head off."

"Shouldn't we make the bed before Hammond comes home and finds out we were here?"

Jeremy pulled James closer to him, grinning mischievously. "We'll let him find out on his own."


End file.
